The Stories of Skinner
by SittingCoyote
Summary: This story is based on the life of Skinner. Light will be shown on her past to help determine her future as a political assassin. Tables will be turned and people will be crossed as the motives of "The Company" come clear.
1. SOS

Word of this secret society has been around since the start of man. They wait, living in the shadows waiting for the call of duty. The duty to kill, sabotage or torture the targets. Some say the source is military, maybe an upset country. Some say orders are given directly from the president himself. All I know is that the assignments are meant to keep the world balanced. Violence is what makes the world go round. I have no clue my employer is, but I know the job must be done.

I barely remember how I entered this (once) unknown world because of the events that followed. I was 19 and had come to the end of the road of ideas of what to do with my life. College was definitely out because I couldn't imagine myself running around school with a messenger bag around my shoulder and a pencil behind my ear. I was never book smart. I saw myself being a business owner. Didn't know what kind of business, just couldn't stand the thought of anyone telling me what to do. That's why it's hard to believe I went to the Army, the place where orders are given from the moment your eyes open, at 4 a.m., until they close, at 8 p.m. I couldn't stand the not doing what I wanted. The $4,000 signing bonus is what really reeled me in. After having a man bark at me with breath similar to the essence of old wet socks, the army thing go old quick. I was ready to go AWAL without a second thought most people said I belonged in a magazine or a runway because of my complexion and toned tall body. I knew I didn't belong in that world either but I couldn't dream of what I had gotten myself into. While at what felt like a concentration camp, prepared to flee, a dressed in a dark suit entered the curtain way (we had no doors there). I couldn't make out make out his face because it was so close to bed time, but I could see the horseshoe shaped scar above his right cheek. He didn't look like he held ranks so I wondered why this maple skinned brother was standing so close to my bunk. He looked like at me intently as if studying an old artifact. I thought my master plan had been exposed and was ready to be towed away to military prison. After he stared at me for what seemed to be hours, he finally spoke in a voice too smooth and mellow for his husky frame.

"Are you Skinner?" he asked.

I nearly fell off my bottom bunk with the sound of that name. Skinner! I hadn't been called that since my freshman year in high school. How did he know that name? Who told him? Did he know the history behind it? I hadn't told my personal life to anyone at camp let alone that I had somewhat of a past. I was only 15 when that so called crime was committed. It was my freshman year in high school, fourth week to be exact. I only had one friend in Sarah Fitzgerald. And she had only one friend, me. We had one class together, P.E., the rest of her classes were honors. I was just teaching her how to play basketball when she decided to make a three point shot. I had the feeling she wouldn't make it but discouraging people is not really my thing. The ball hit the rim, ricocheted off the gym wall and right atop of this tall girls head.

"Opps", was the only word Sarah could come up with.

The tall dark skinned girl turned around, slightly off balanced. The anger in her face couldn't be denied. The rest of passé had turned before she could place her dark eyes in our direction.

"Who threw that god damn ball?"

I thought I saw Sarah shiver. This 12th grader was obviously intimidating and could pass for a senior in college.

"I ain't gone ask no mo, WHO THREW THAT GOD DAMN BALL!?"

I hated people who walked around with a visible chip on their shoulder. This young woman was a perfect example of an angry black woman. She was not afraid to show her fury in front of the entire 6th period class.

"Was it this little CRACKER girl?" she asked to the girls behind her.

I could almost see Sarah melting beside me. Even though I was a little for my age, Sarah looked plan old malnourished compared to her. She barely stood at 5 feet. Without thinking I blurted out, "It was me!"

My tone surprised me with its strength. I don't know what possessed me to say it. I wasn't scared, but I always know how to avoid conformation. The tall dark girl took a step forward.

"Ohh… Little miss mixed girl."

I wonder what gave that away. Was it my color? I could usually pass for a red bone. It had to be my curly hair. I remembered I hadn't flat ironed it this morning and it was pulled back into a thick sloppy ponytail. Trying to resolve the situation I decided to talk it out.

"I only meant to shoot the….."

But my words were cut off before I could attempt to finish.

"So you think you can just hit me with the ball and get away with it?!"

By this time nearly everyone had their eyes glued to this exciting scene. They were whispering saying thing that heard like "Lesha is going to kill her". Sarah looked as if she was going to defend me, but before I could let that thought process to words I said,

"Big bad Lesha can't take a ball to the head?"

The entire gym inhaled rapidly. Lesha's face twitched as if she was having a fit. I knew these words weren't the best ones to use, especially to resolve this, but I kept my head high. Plus I already knew talking wasn't gonna help me here. She almost ran to where I stood when Coach Saunders walked in front of her and said, "Do you lady's have a problem?"

I quickly said, "No".

Coach assessed the scene looking from me, to Sarah, and to Lesha and then down to the ball on the ground.

"It's a shame you kids will risk your future over a stupid game"

She didn't know what she walked in on. Coach still had her arm around Lesha. Lesha, caught in mid stride, looked like an enraged pit bull. Coach saw that the situation hadn't simmered yet and chose to take further action.

"Lesha, in my office. Everyone else get back to whatever you were doing, unless you want detentions for the rest of this semester!"

All of the kids scurried like mice and I heard Lesha suck her teeth and walk toward the office set in the hallway leading to the exit. Just as she made it to the door she turned her head in my direction and I could've sworn I saw her mouth say "I'll see you after school".

By that time Sarah was close to fainting. She had a look on her face that was close to tears. She continued to apologize as I walked to English. I was nearly annoyed.

"Sarah you should really get to class. I don't know what I would do to myself if I was responsible for messing up your perfect attendance".

The small joke didn't work as I had planned. She looked even more unstable than before.

"I heard a lot of stories about her. Some say she got arrested hitting a teacher".

I said "Those are rumors. She would've been expelled if she did that".

She seemed to be taking in my logic. I was wondering where she had heard that from. She was likely eavesdropping in the cafeteria. Or maybe her associates from the math club knew more than I thought. I convinced her that everything was okay and worrying wouldn't help. I got her to go to class before the bell rung.

English went past like a blur. Even though Sarah was convinced, I didn't think Lesha would forget about today's B-ball fiasco. English was my last class of the day and Sarah was at our usual spot by the yellow pole near the bus loading area. I could tell she was still shaken by today's events. Running out of words to sooth her, I thought a change of subjects would work.

"How was your calculus class?"

I knew that answer would be boring. I answered in my head, blah blah blah to the 5th power. Some number minus mc^2. Her answer was similar to mine. We started walking toward the schools exit gate when Sarah saw I wasn't paying any attention.

She asked, "Do you want to take the bus?"

I never thought about why the bus had a route to our house when we only lived three blocks away. Sarah stayed two houses down with her mother and little brother. Our neighborhood wasn't the worst but it certainly wasn't the best. I told her, "Exercise will do us some good". She laughed and said, "I would be saying the same thing if my legs were as long as yours".

We made it to Sarah's house and I told her she might have to come later to help me with my Pre-Algebra. She laughed as she waved goodbye and disappeared behind the door. I walked home thinking of what I would fix myself to eat when I heard the bass of the latest jam. I was used to hearing that in this area, but the sound didn't pass like usual. It stayed in the background like elevator music. Before I got the chance to look back a black Impala pulled up to my right side. All of the tinted windows were let down to reveal Lesha and the three girls from the gym. I didn't even have a chance to think when the car pulled in front of me on to the sidewalk and was rapidly put in park before it stopped.

"That's her!" yelled the girl in the backseat.

Once again no thought entered my mind. I had no choice but to stop unless I wanted to run into the car. Lesha jumped out of the car yelling, "Talk that shit now bitch".


	2. Knife in Hand

"Damn, how am I gonna get out of this situation?" I thought.

I'm more than sure she hadn't come to invite me to a tea party, but I kept my hopes high. She was actually looking for me to say something. My house was in eye sight. I could make it but, how long could I run? I definitely couldn't run the whole school year. She would eventually catch me. Staying was the final plan. Just as I found the courage to speak she pulled out a three inch knife. It sent tiny spotlights around from the reflection of the sun. What oxygen I had in my system left with the sight of that knife. She came toward me waiting for my next move. She came toward me waiting for my next move. She suddenly charged with the knife at her side. I knew what to do, dip low and try to scoop her at the knees and attempt to throw her tall ass over my back. Would that work? It always did in the movies. BAMM! Lesha's body hit the ground behind. The knife she held nearly sliced my face open as she flew over my head. What next, now that I had angered the bull even more? I quickly turned around to see her attempting to recover. I saw something else twinkle in my peripheral. A chunk of glass sat only a foot away from me. I picked it up thinking this fight was already unfair with her knife advantage. As she finally made it to her feet I was right by her with the glass and some new found confidence. I was prepared, adrenaline pumping and glass tight in my fist. I charged before she could. I sliced at everything I saw. Unleashing anger I never knew I had. First her arm then her chest, I didn't discriminate. I thought of all the times people, even family, ridiculed me for being mixed. I did it with the thoughts of stares and angry people who didn't like me for how I looked. I couldn't control myself. I didn't know how long I'd been slicing and cutting. I wanted to stop but I couldn't. I continued until her white designer shirt was almost completely red. Her screams took me out of my own mental cage.

I stopped glass still clinched tightly in my right hand. It felt like I had taught a misbehaved child a lesson. But it wasn't, this was much worst. As Freud would say, my "superego" was coming back. Lesha squirmed on the ground in front of me lashing her arms around her body. She attempted to cover her wounds, there were so many. The top of her jeans appeared black from the blood. I heard gasps from the car. I had forgotten that her friends were there. Would they do to me what I had done to her? They sat glued to their seats. Their eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. The girl who sat in the front seat jumped out and ran toward me. "Oh god, please don't let her hit me", I thought. She ran passed me and to the side of her wounded comrade. She held the same face of shock but this slowly turned to fear.

I ran as fast as I found to my house. I knew the door was open because my mom knew I lost my keys. I ran through the hall and stopped to breath. The oxygen felt so good and pure at this moment. I can imagine myself as a baby taking its first breath. My body felt hot. I couldn't think of what to do. I turned around to lock the door when I saw a trail of blood leading from it. I felt a sharp pain all over. Lesha must've stabbed me. I felt a sharp pain up my arm that ran to my hand. I was still holding the glass tight in my hand. Blood was trickling down to the white tile to form a puddle of my DNA. I let it go instantly to find a cut running from the start of my hand to the base of my index finger. I used my other hand to apply pressure to the wound, remembering what I had learned in my First Aid and CPR class. I ran to my small kitchen to run the cool water over my throbbing wound. I feared an infection. Lord knows where that glass had been before it made its resting place in the grass. I got a dish rag out of the drawer and continued to apply pressure. I remembered to breathe again. What had I done? The cops were likely on their way now. What would I say to them? I went to my room and quickly changed into my basketball shorts and tank top. I got a sponge from the kitchen and cleaned up my trail of blood in an attempt to leave no trace. I sat at the kitchen table contemplating an alibi. I was washing the dishes and cut my hand on a knife. Yea that would work. I was in mid thought of a lie when the door bell rung. The cops had made it before I thought they would. It could've have been Lesha's friends coming back to avenge her. I ran to the door waiting to hear voices. There were none. They weren't gonna fool me. I ran to the kitchen to get a knife. Back at the door, I waited. This would be the perfect time for my house to have a peephole. I waited still intently listening for any sound. I jumped. The door bell had rung again. This time I was ready. Knife in hand, mind ready for the worst, I opened the door.


	3. Dr Fitzgerald

"What's with the knife?"

Sarah was looking appalled standing at my front door. She didn't know. She hadn't heard the screams outside her door.

I casually said, "It was just a precaution".

She believed me. Her eyes went down to my makeshift bandage.

"What happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing; I cut it washing the dishes"

In that instant, she turned into Dr. Fitzgerald.

"You should get something sanitized so you won't get an infection. Do you have gauze?"

At first I didn't know why I had lied to my best friend. But I thought oh how she looked in the gym today. She would never forgive herself if I told her the truth.

"Yes we have gauze"

I followed her to the bathroom. Dr. Fitzgerald took out the gauze and Neosporin, and then slowly removed the dishrag to examine my wound. "This is pretty deep. You might have to go to the hospital".

"I'm sure you can fix it up nicely".

The hospital was out of the question. Hospitals meant police would be close by, and I'm sure the dishwashing story wouldn't hold up with them. DCF would be all over this house. Sarah did her best with the bandage and instructed me to ice it throughout the night. I needed to clear my mind. I sent Sarah away with the, "I'm tired lets study tomorrow" excuse.

How was I gonna get out of this mess? I thought about packing my bags and running away. No, my mom would go crazy. Most of my mom's family lived out of state and the ones that lived in Georgia didn't like us that much. I couldn't stay in a house where I wasn't welcomed. I didn't know my dad's family; I didn't even know my dad. My mom usually changed the subject when I brought him up. Sometimes she would give me a semi speech, "He was a white man with a bad attitude. Being with him was a mistake." She would always remember to say "Of course you're not a mistake honey. I'll tell you about him when you're older and able to understand." Maybe I could try to get in touch with him. I had to leave because mom would be home in a few hours. I settled in bed wondering if I would tell her about today's events…..

I woke up with the sounds of screams echoing through the house.

"What do you mean that's the best you can do!?"

It was my mom. There was a pause. I saw darkness through my window. My alarm clock read 12:37 a.m.

"I don't care what has to be done to fix this. She is my only child and I can't let this happen to her."

She lowered her voice but she still sounded angry.

"As much as I done for you, you have the nerve to say you can't do anything. That is very foul Sam and you know it."

It was quiet again. All I could hear was her pacing on the carpet in the living room.

"How dare you bring up my job and use it against me. I work hard as nurse. I slave everyday to have a better future for my daughter. There is no way you can say you did the same for your child."

I heard her moving dishes around in the kitchen before she spoke again.

"You can't fault me for my career. Wait, this has nothing to do with me. If you don't want to it just say so."

"I can't believe I have to basically beg you for a favor. You have been so bitter since I left. How can you still hold a grudge?"

She was back in the living room.

"Sorry? You're not sorry. You just want me to suffer. You need to get over yourself because this is about my baby and her life. That gangbanging girl already gave her statement; the rest should be easy.

Her voice got a little calm.

"I understand. I just want you to know where I'm coming from. I'm sorry things ended the way they did, but I do not regret my decision."

She sound relieved and exhausted at the same time.

"Thank you Sam"

I heard a beep from her hanging up the phone. I heard her shuffling around. I closed my eyes as she walked into my room. I don't know how long she stayed in the doorway, I just remember waking up to my alarm clock. I slept so good I nearly forgot about what happened yesterday. The ache in my hand reminded me. I tried to be normal. I showered, dressed and walked to Sarah's house. The walk to school was quick as usual. When we made it on campus the whispers could not be mistaken.

"That's the girl that did it".

"Yea I heard she ran her over with a car".

"Somebody said she tried to skin her alive".

How many people had heard? By this time the whole school would know. My classes were no different.

"She skinned her"

"I heard Lesha had to get a skin graph for a skin graph."

"I bet that didn't happen" said some girl in my English class.

They were attempting to whisper but I heard them all. They kept staring

"Well how would you know" answered the boy with the freckles.

"I bet you won't ask her" challenged the girl.

"Yea I will, but if she kills me tell my parents I love them".

The girl laughed. The boy slowly approached me like I was a caged lion at the zoo.

"Hello Skinner. So what did you do to her?"

What did he expect me to say? He was so straight forward. Thankfully the last bell rung before I could answer with my well rehearsed lie. Everyone ran out the class ready for the tree day weekend.

"Goodbye Skinner" the boy yelled over the crowd.

Lesha wasn't at school or she just didn't skipped P.E. I didn't know if she was in the hospital or what had happened after I left. I thought as I walked to meet Sarah. I heard my new nickname being said in the distance. "That's Skinner".


	4. AWAL

I regained my train of thought. I was on my knees back at camp. That name sent me to an unwanted look at my past. I looked up to see the maple skinned man in the dark suit. He laughed as I picked my shaken body off the floor.

"Now we can't have any clumsy people on our team".

"What team and how do you know that name?" I asked finally sitting on the lower bunk.

He stood silently.

"Are you a recruiter"?

"I guess you can call me that", the man replied

"I haven't played basketball in a long time. I would be no use to your team, plus I have a contract with the Army for two years"

He looked a little puzzled. "Everyone knows you don't belong here".

"What? Oh let me guess you think I belong on a runway too".

Once again he looked puzzled which made me feel self conscious.

"So why are you here?"

"You have already guessed the important part. I'm a recruiter for an …Important business. The company I work for helps the world. You could be a part of something that balances the world." He smirked like it was an inside joke.

"What does your COMPANY want with me?"

"Well it's complicated."

What could be so complicated with answering a question? Just spit it out. Pushing him to answer would work.

"What stood out about me to make me a candidate?"

"Well, first of all it was your record. My company has a finds an interest in people with a history. The company sees this as potential."

"Potential for what?"

"Potential to be successful in this company"

He just took me in a little annoying circle. He still stood in the curtain way, face as serious as cancer. Was this a part of his company? Dressing in funeral suits and looking mean. If it was I definitely didn't want to be a part of it.

"Do you want to know more?" he asked breaking the silence. His face was still blank. As much as I wanted to say yes I couldn't. There was no getting past the Army. The contract is binding with only two ways out death or going AWAL. And the chances of getting caught were really high. This made me think of how stupid my idea was.

"Yea, sure" I said skeptically.

"Follow me" he said disappearing behind the curtain.

That made me think about where my camp mate was. She should've been here by now. I followed the man thinking I didn't even know his name. Maybe this was a trap and he was getting ready to drag me to a military prison. Drag because I wasn't going away without a fight. That didn't explain how he knew my name and how he even got in, especially at night. I followed without a protest. He led me out to a black suburban with tinted windows. This confirmed my fears, prison for 30 years. He opened the passenger door to let me in. I guess chivalry isn't as lifeless as they say. I thought they put the convicts in the back. I climbed in. There were no bars, no police lights, or even a radio to talk to dispatch. It looked like a regular factory SUV. He climbed in looking pleased with himself.

"And they said you might be difficult"

"Who are they" I asked.

"Just people at the company".

He started the car while examining me.

"You look different from my high school pictures"

The shock was all over my face. Pictures of me were mostly taken with my hair straight. I had been rocking the bushy ponytail because the ARMY didn't allow anything other than their so called necessities. So bringing my flat iron was not an option.

"You're still a beautiful young woman" he said trying to restore my confidence. It worked.

"I'm not allowed to leave camp" I said noticing we were moving.

"I talked to your commanding officer and everything has been straightened out."

"Straightened out! I'm on a contract." I nearly screamed my last words.

"Your contract was terminated as of," he looked at his watch "45 minutes ago".

I kept quiet, still in shock, as we rode through the heavily guarded gates.

"Judging by your profile, I thought you didn't want to be here", he said clearing up the awkwardness.

It was true. I don't think anyone fully want to be in the Army. No one can agree with the government %100. I stole this opportunity to ask about The Company. Judging by his Rolex The Company had to pay well.

"What do you do at The Company?"

"I do a lot of things, mainly traveling to various countries to meet new people".

He was being too vague for my liking. Salesmen always tell you the good stuff to reel you in.

"What's the catch", I asked.

His smirk almost went unnoticed.

"Well…" He paused, "That's very complicated".

Damn, was anything basic with this guy?

"I'm sure I can handle it"

He took a deep breath, "That's what I'm afraid of".

Whatever his job is, it pays well. He was able to afford a real Rolex. I saw how that time piece ticked the right way. The show _To Spot a Fake_ on NBC is the reason for that knowledge. It could've been stolen.

"Could you at least TRY to explain it to me?"

"Okay but consider yourself warned."

I waited for him to talk as he took a left turn at a light.

"It's unknown how many people work for the company, but the objective is still the same. Every job or assignment is related to politics, along with everything else in the world. The assignments are all linked to a common balance of the world. A few examples would be that peace cannot exist without war and societies cannot thrive without violence. It's all about balance. Have you ever heard of a perfect country?"

I thought for a second and said "No".

He laughed a little while saying "If you do, be sure to inform The Company"

"Why?"

"Because we would change that. You see, most of the time we don't have to intervene. Community's have their misfits. But sometimes The Company has bigger issues to tend to. Some are easier than others but at the end of the day, the job must be done to..."

"Let me guess, keep the balance of the world" I interjected.

"You're very right. You're learning quickly, I must say I'm not surprised."

It was my turn to ask the questions.

"How did you become employed by the company?"

He thought for a moment and said, "It was very similar to what I am doing to you, except it was at my house. I was more frightened then you are. My recruiter revealed things I thought no one knew. He told me about the time I broke into my neighbors' house without being caught. He told me about the time I ran away when I was 16. He even told me who I lost my virginity to."

We pulled into the parking lot of the Marriott while he finished his recollection. Maybe he wanted to park and talk. He looked at me with his serious face and said "You must be sure not to tell anyone about this. Everything I tell you must stay in your head. You mustn't talk to anyone for any reason. That includes front desk, housekeeping, or anyone you see. Don't answer the phone and most importantly don't call anyone. Has everything I said been made clear?"

I was taken aback by his last question. He sounded as if he was my father, if I had known what his voice was like. He was no way near the age my father would be. He couldn't be thirty yet. He was mature. Maybe he was over thirty, if so he should give me beauty tips.

"Yes I understand very well," I said with a slight attitude.

"Okay, here's your key. You will be in room 213. Remember what I've said."

He got out of the car and opened my door before I could get my seat belt off. I got out of the car looking down remembering I still had my camp wear on. He must've read my mind.

"You have clothes and other items in your room"

I still had questions. I wondered if I would see him again.

"You will receive further instructions in the morning. Oh yea, don't answer the door."

He began to walk away.

Before he made it to the truck I yelled, "What's your name?"

He turned around and said "Craymer".


End file.
